JAMES K.MOFFITT PAULINE FORE MOFFITT LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA GENERAL LIBRARY, BERKELEY Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/comusmasl The wood-nymphs, deck'd with daisies trim, Their merry wakes and pastimes keep; What hath night to do with sleep? Night hath better sweets to prove, >• ! ! Venus now wakes, and wakens Love, ij : '. Come,let us our rites begin, ? .../ 'Tis only day-light that makes sin^ . I - Which these dun shades will ne'er report. Hail, Goddess of nocturnal sport, Dark-veil'd Coty tto,t'whom the secret flame Ofmidnighttorchesburns;mysteriousdame, That ne'er art call'd, but when the dragon womb Of Stygian darkness spits her thickest gloom, And makes one blot of all the air; Stay thy cloudy ebon chair, ;./!,/ bn/ 6 Wherein thou rid*st with Hecate, & befriend Us thy vow'd priests, till utmost end Of all thy dues be done,and none left out. Ere the babbling eastern scout, The nice morn, on the Indian steep From her cabin'd loophole peep. And to the tell-tale sun descry Our concealed solemnity. Come, knit hands, and beat the ground In a light fantastic round. BREAK ofF, break off, I feel the different pace Of some chaste footing near about this ground. Run to your shrouds, within these brakes and trees; Our number may affright! Some virgin sure (For so I can distinguish by mine art) Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms. And to my wily trains; I shall ere long Be well-stock'd with as fair a herd as grazed About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl My dazzling spells into the spongy air, Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion. And give it false present- ments, lest the place And my quaint habits breed astonishment And put the damsel to 7 suspicious flight, Which must not be, for that's against my course: I, under fair pre- tence of friendly ends. And well-placed words of glozing courtesy Baited with rea- sons not unplausible, Wind me into the easy-hearted man, And hug him into snares. When once her eye Hath met the virtue of this magic dust, I shall appear some harmless villager. Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear. But here she comes, I fairly step aside. And hearken, if I may, her business here. The Lady enters LADY. f ' I 1 HIS way the noise was, if mine ear I be true. My best guide now; me- I thought it was the sound Of riot andiil-managed merriment. Such as the jocund flute, or gamesome pipe Stirs up among the loose unlettered hinds. When for their teeming flocks, and granges full. In wanton dance,they praise the bounteous Pan, And thank the Gods amiss. I should be loath To meet the rudeness, and swill'd insolence Of such late wassailers; yet O 8 where else Shall I inform my unacquaint- ed feet In the blind mazes of this tangled wood? My Brothers, when they saw me wearied out With this long way, resolving here to lodge Under the spreading favour of these pines. Stepped, as they said, to the next thicket side To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit As the kind hospitable woods provide. They left me then, when the gray-hooded Even, Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed. Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain. But where they are, and why they came not back. Is now the labour of my thoughts; 'tis likeliest They had engaged their wandering steps too far; And envious darkness, ere they could return. Had stole from me: else, O thievish Night, Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end. In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars That nature hung in heaven, andfill'd their lamps With ever- lasting oil, to give due light To the misled and lonely traveller? This is the place, as well as I may guess. Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth Was rife, and perfect in my listening ear, Yet nought but single darkness do I find. What might this be? A 9 thousand fantasies Begin to thronginto my memory, Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire. And aery tongues, that syll- able men's names On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses. These thoughts may startle well, but not astound The virtu- ous mind, that ever walks attended By a strong-siding champion, Conscience. — O welcome pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope, Thou hovVing Angel, girt with golden wings. And thou,unblemish *d form of Chastity! I see ye visibly, and now be- lieve That He,the Supreme Good,t'whom all things ill Are but as slavish officers of vengeance, Would sendaglist'ring guardr- ian, if need were, To keep my life and hon- our unassail'd. Was I deceived, or did a sa- ble cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night? I did not err, there does a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night. And casts a gleam over this tufted grove: I cannot halloo to my Brothers,but Such noise as I can make to be heard far- thest ril venture, for my new enlivened spirits Prompt me; and they perhaps are notfaroffl ., . ; . ^ , . IQ SONG. C^ WEET Echo, sweetest nyinph,that k3 liv'st unseen w i:\ Within thy aery shell, Unuw^u :i ; By slow Meander's margcnt grecni And in the violet-embroider'd vale. Where the love-lorn nightingale Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well ; Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair That likest thy Narcissus are? O, if thou have -' Hid them in some flowery cave, , Tell me but where. Sweet queen of parly , daughter of the sphere ! So mayst thou be translated to the skies. And give resounding grace to all heaven's harmonies. > Knter (■ omuv ^« J : COMUS. CAN any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine en- chanting ravishment ? Sure some- thing holy lodges in that breast, And with these raptures moves the vocal air To tes- tify his hidden residence : How sweetly did they float upon the wings Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night, At every fall smoothing the raven-down Of dark- ness till it smiled ! I have oft heard My mo- ther Circe with the Sirens three, Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades, Culling their potent herbs, and baleful drugs, Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul And lap it in Elysium; Scylla wept. And chid her barkingwaves into attention. And fellCharybdis murmur'd soft applause : Yet they in pleasing slumber luU'd the sense. And in sweet madness robb'd it of itself; But such a sacred, and home-felt delight. Such sobercertaintyofwakingblissi never heard till now. Til speak to her. And she shall be my queen. Hail, foreign wonder! Whom certain these rough shades did nev- er breed, Unless the goddess that in rural shrine DwelFst here with Pan, or Silvan, by blest song Forbidding every bleak un- kindly fogTo touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood. . ^p' ADY. Nay, gentle Shepherd, ill is \ vlost that praise That is addressed to unattending ears; Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift How to regain my sev- S2 er'd comany, Compeird me to awake the courteous Echo To give me answer from her mossy couch. COMUS. What chance, good Lady, hath bereft you thus? CT^ ADY. Dim darkness, and this leafy J_> labyrinth. ^OMUS. Could that divideyoufrom near-ushering guides? 'T" ADY. They left me weary on a gras- \j syturf. ^^ OMUS. By falsehood, or discourt- V.^,^ esy,orwhy? LADY. To seek i' the valley some 'cool friendly spring. OMUS. And left your fair side all unguarded. Lady? LADY. They were but twain, ^Qd purposed quick return^ 'f) .t-^ ?> . / OMUS. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them. "TT ADY. How easy my misfortune is Ij^tohit! . T. rw ^aO >i JT/.* ? y'^^^^OMUS. Imports their loss, beside \^^ the present need? "T^ ADY. No less than if I should my l^rothers lose. -^ 13 ^"^ OMUS. Wcrcthcy ofmanlyprimc, \^^^^ or youthful bloom? T^ ADY. As smooth as Hebe's their v^l^unrazor'dlips. ^^ r: »i^*^? >^^OMUS. Two such I saw,whattime \^_^ the laboured ox In his loose traces from the furrow came, And the swink'd hedger at his supper sat; I saw them under a green mantling vine That crawls along the side of yon small hill. Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots ; Their port was more than human, as they stood: I took it for a faery vision Of some gay creatures of the element, That in the colours of the rainbow live, And play i' the plighted clouds. I was awe-struck, And as I pass*d, 1 worshipped; if those you seek, It were a journey like the path to heav'n. To help you find them. rADY. Gentle Villager, What rea- Y diest way would bring me to that place .^ d^ * OMUS. Due west it rises from this ^lJ- shrubby point. '• ' '' rADY. To find that out, good Shep- / herd, I suppose. In such a scant al- lowance of star-light. Would overtask the best land-pilot's art, Without the sure guess of well-practised feet. C^ OM US. I know each lane,and every • alley green, Dingle or bushy dell of this wild wood, And every bosky bourn from side to side. My daily walks and an- cient neighbourhood; And if your stray- attendants be yet lodged Or shroud with- in these limits, I shall know Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark From her thatch'd pallet rouse; if otherwise, I can conduct you. Lady, to a low But loyal cot- tage, where you may be safe Till further quest. LADY. Shepherd, I take thy word, ^ And trust thy honest ofFer'd court- esy. Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds With smoky rafters, than in tapestry halls And courts of princes, where it first was named. And yet is most pretended: in a place Less warranted than this, or less se- cure, I cannot be, that I should fear to change it. Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial To my propor tion'd strength. Shepherd, lead on. 15 Enter the two Brothers, FIRST BROTHER. NMUFFLE, ye faint stars, and *^ ■ thoUjfairmoon, Thatwont'st to love thetraveller'sbenison, Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud, And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here In double night of darkness and of shades; Or if your influence be quite damm*d up With black usurping mists, some gentle taper. Though a rush candle from the wicker- hole Of some clay habitation,visit us With thy long-leveird rule of streaming light; And thou shalt be our star of Arcady, Or Tyrian Cynosure. SECOND BROTHER. R if our eyes Be barr*d that hap- piness, might we but hear The folded flocks penned in their wat- tled cotes. Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops. Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock Count the night watches to his feathery dames, 'Twould be some sol- ace yet, some little cheering In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs. But O i6 that hapless virgin, our lost Sister ! Where may she wander now, whither betake her From the chill dew, among rude burs and thistles ? Perhaps some cold bank is her bol- ster now. Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm Leans herunpillow'd head, fraught with sad fears. What, if in wild a- mazement, & affright. Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp Of savage hunger, or of savage heat? FIRST BROTHER. fEACE, Brother, be not over-ex- quisite To cast the fashion of un- certain evils; For grant they be so, while they rest unknown. What need a man forestall his date of grief. And run to meet what he would most avoid ? Or if they be but false alarms of fear. How bitter is such self-delusion ! I do not think my Sis- ter so to seek. Or so unprincipled in vir- tue's book. And the sweet peace that good- ness bosoms ever. As that the single want of light and noise (Not being in danger, as I trust she is not) Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts. And put them into misbecoming plight. Virtue could see c 17 to do what virtue would By her own radi- ant light, though sun and moon Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, Where with her best nurse Contemplation She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings,That in the various bustle of resort Were all-to ruffled, and sometimes impaired. He that has light within his own clear breast. May sit 'i the centre, and enjoy bright day: But he that hides a dark soul, and foul thoughts. Benighted walks under the mid-day sun; Himself is his own dungeon. SECOND BROTHER. TIS most true,That musing medi- tation most affects The pensive secrecy of desert cell. Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds. And sits as safe as in a senate house; For who would rob a hermit of his weeds. His few books, or his beads, or maple dish. Or do his gray hairs any violence? But beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard Of dra- gon-watch with unenchanted eye. To save her blossoms, & defend her fruit From the i8 rash hand of bold incontinence. You may as well spread out the unsunn'd heaps Of miser*s treasure by an outlaw's den, And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope Danger will wink on opportunity. And let a single help- less maiden pass Uninj ured in this wild sur- rounding waste. Of night, or loneliness, it recks me not; I fear the dread events that dog them both, Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person Of our unown- ed Sister. FIRST BROTHER. TDO not. Brother, Infer, as if I thought my Sister's state Secure without all doubt, or controver- sy; Yet where an equal poise of hope and fear Does arbitrate the event, my nature is That I incline to hope, rather than fear. And gladly banish squint suspicion. My Sister is not so defenceless left, As you im- agine; she has a hidden strength Which you remember not. SECOND BROTHER. ^T/^ fcAT hidden strength,Unless the ■ 1 Istrength of Heav'n,ifyou mean VXJ^that? C 2 19 FIRST BROTHER. TMEAN that too, but yet a hid- den strength, Which, if Heav'n gave it, may be term'd her own; 'Tis chastity, my Brother, chastity: She that hast that,is clad in complete steel. And like a quiver'd Nymph with arrows keen May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths. Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds. Where through the sacred rays of chastity. No savage fierce,bandit,or moun- taineer Will dare to soil her virgin purity: Yea there, where very desolation dwells. By grots, and caverns shagg'd with horrid shades. She may pass on with unblench'd majesty. Be it not done in pride, or in pre- sumption. Some say no evil thing that walks by night. In fog, or fire, by lake, or moorish fen. Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost,That breaks his magic chains at curfew time. No goblin, or swart faery of the mine, Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity. Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call Antiquity from the old schools of Greece To testify the arms of chastity? Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow. Fair silver-shafted queen, for ever 20 chaste, Wherewith she tamed the brinded lioness And spotted mountain pard,butset at nought The frivolous bolt of Cupid; Gods and men Fear'd her stern frown, and she was queen o' th' woods. What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield. That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin. Wherewith she freezed her foes to con- gealed stone, But rigid looks of chaste aus- terity. And noble grace that dash*d brute violence With sudden adoration and blank awe? So dear to heav'n is saintly chastity. That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lacky her. Driv- ing far offeach thing of sin and guilt. And in clear dream, and solemn vision,Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear Till oft converse with heavenly habitants Begin to cast a beam on th* outward shape, The un- polluted temple of the mind. And turns it by degrees to the souFs essence. Till all be made immortal: but when lust. By un- chaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk. But most by lewd and lavish act of sin. Lets in defilement to the inward parts,The soul grows clotted by contagion, Imbodies, and imbruteSjtill she quite loseThe divine pro- 21 pertyofher first being. Such are those thick & gloomy shadows damp Oft seen in char- nal vaults, and sepulchres, Ling'ring and sitting by a new-made grave, As loath to leave the body that it loved. And linked it- self by carnal sensuality To a degenerate and degraded state. SECOND BROTHER. HOW charming is divine philos- ophy! Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull fools suppose. But musical, as in Apollo's lute. And a perpetual feast of nectar*d sweets. Where no crude surfeit reigns. FIRST BROTHER. T^ 1ST, list, I hear Some far off halloo J .break the silent air. SECOND BROTHER. fXlpTHOUGHTso too: what should \jL/itbe? FIRST BROTHER. FOR certain Either some one like us night-founder*d here, Or else some neighbour woodman, or, at worst, Some roving robber calling to his fellows. 22 SECOND BROTHER. X^^ EAV*N keep my Sister. Again, a- J_ 1 gain, and near; Best draw, and stand upon our guard. FIRST BROTHER. I'LL halloo; If he be friendly, he comes well ; if not. Defence is a good cause, and Heav'n be for us. E»^tt!r f^'e jt«t:rifi:*fir >p!r't. hahitvd like a shepherd. That halloo I should know, what are you? speak; Come not too near, you fall on iron stakes else. SPIRIT. TV THAT voice is that? my young Lord? vSs_J\ speak again. SECOND BROTHER. O BROTHER, 'tis my father's shep- herd, sure. FIRST BROTHER. THYRSIS? Whose artful strains have oft delay'd The huddling brook to hear his madrigal. And sweeten'd every 23 muskrose of the dale. How cam*st thou here, good swain? hath any ram Slipt from the fold, or young kid lost his dam, Or straggling wether the pent flock forsook? How coulds't thou find this dark sequest- er'dnook? SPIRIT. OM Y loved master's heir, and his nextjoy, I came not here on such a trivial toy As a stray'd ewe, or to pursue the stealth Of pilfering wolf; not all the fleecy wealth That doth enrich these downs is worth a thought To this my er- rand, and the care it brought. But, O my virgin Lady,where is she ? How chance she is not in your company ? FIRST BROTHER. TO tell thee sadly, Shepherd,without blame, Or our neglect, we lost her as we came. SPIRIT. 1 Y^^ ^e unhappy ! then my fears are Xjltrue. FIRST BROTHER. TT^HAT fears, good Thyrsis? Prithee W->^ briefly show. 24 SPIRIT. T'LL tell ye; 'tis not vain or fabulous, Though so esteem'd by shallow ig- norance, What the sage poets, taught by the heav'nly Muse, Storied of old, in high immortal verse. Of dire chimeras, and en- chanted isles. And rifted rocks whose en- trance leads to Hell ; For such there be,but unbelief is blind. TT^TITHIN the navel of this hideous VjL->Vwood, Immured in cypress shades a sorcerer dwells. Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus. Deep skilFd in all his mother's witcheries. And here to every thirsty wanderer By sly enticement gives his baneful cup. With many murmurs mix'd, whose pleasing poison The visage quite transforms of him that drinks, And the inglorious likeness of a beast Fixes in- stead, unmoulding reason's mintage Char- actered in the face: this I have learnt Tend- ing my flocks hard by i' th' hilly crofts. That brow this bottom -glade, whence, night by night. He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl. Like stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey. Doing abhorred rites to Hecate In their obscured haunts of in- 25 most bowers. Yet have they many baits, & guileful spells, To inveigle & invite th*un- wary sense Of them that pass unweeting by the vv^ay. This evening late, by then the chewing flocks Had ta*en their supper on the savoury herb Of knot-grass dew-be- sprent, and were in fold, I sat me down to watch upon a bank With ivy canopied, & interwove With flaunting honey-suckle, and began. Wrapt in a pleasing fit of mel- ancholy, To meditate my rural minstrelsy. Till fancy had her fill, but ere a close. The wonted roar was up amidst the woods. And fiird the air with barbarous dissonance ; At which I ceased, and listened them a while. Till an unusual stop of sudden silence Gave respite to the drowsy frighted steeds,That draw the litter of close-curtain'd sleep ; At last a soft & solemn-breathing sound Rose like a steamof rich distilFd perfumes. And stole upon the air, that even Silence Was took ere she was ware, & wished she might Deny her nature, and be never more. Still to be so displaced. I was all ear. And took in strains that might create a soul Under the ribs of death: but O ere long Too well 26 I did perceive it was the voice Of my most honoured Lady, your dear Sister. Amazed I stood, harrow'd with grief & fear, AndO poor hapless nightingale thought I, How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly snare! Then down the lawns I ran with headlong haste. Through paths and turn- ings often trod by day. Till guided by mine ear I found the place, Where that damn'd wizard, hid in sly disguise, (For so by cer- tain signs I knew) had met Already, ere my best speed could prevent. The aid- less innocent Lady his wished prey. Who gently ask*d if he had seen such two. Sup- posing him some neighbour villager. Long- er I durst not stay, but soon I guess'd Ye were the two she meant ; with that I sprung Into swift flight, till I had found you here. But further know I not. SECOND BROTHER. O NIGHT and shades. How are ye joined with Hell in triple knot, A- gainst the unarmed weakness of one virgin, Alone and helpless! Is this the confidence You gave me. Brother? 27 FIRST BROTHER. '^"^/^ ES, and keep it still, Lean on it safe- ly ly ; not a period Shall be unsaid for me: against the threats Of malice or of sorcery, or that power Which erring men call Chance, this I hold firm. Virtue may be assaird,but never hurt. Surprised by un- just force, but not enthralled ; Yea even that which mischiefmeant most harm, Shall in the happy trial prove most glory: But evil on itself shall back recoil. And mix no more with goodness, when at last Gathered like scum, & settled to itself. It shall be in eter- nal restless change Self-fed, and self-con- sumed: if this fail. The pillar'd firmament is rottenness. And earth's base built on stub- ble. But come, let*s on. Against the oppos- ing will and arm of heaven May never this j ust sword be lifted up ; But for that damn'd magician,let him be girt With all the grisly legions that troop Under the sooty flag of Acheron, Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms 'Twixt Africa and Ind, ril find him out. And force him to return his purchase back. Or drag him by the curls to a foul death, Cursed as his life. 28 SPIRIT. 'I JLAS! good vent'rous youth, I love jLXJ^y courage yet,&bold emprise;But here thy sword can do thee little stead, Far other arms & other weapons must Be those that quell the might of hellish charms : He with his bare wand can unthread thyj oints, And crumble all thy sinews. FIRST BROTHER. yv fHY prithee. Shepherd, How durst V3LJ\ thou then thyself approach so near. As to make this relation? SPIRIT. C^ ARE & utmost shifts How to secure ^ the Lady from surprisal. Brought to my mind a certain shepherd lad, Of small regard to see to, yet well skilFd In every virtuous plant&healingherb,That spreads her verdant leaf to th' morning ray: He loved me well, and oft would beg me sing, Which when I did, he on the tender grass Would sit, and hearken e*en to ecstasy. And in requital ope his leathern scrip, Andshow me simples of a thousand names, Telling 29 their strange and vigorous faculties: A- mongstthe rest a small unsightly root, But of divine effect, he cull'd me out; The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it. But in another country, as he said. Bore a bright goldenflow'r,butnotinthissoil:Unknown, and like esteemed, & the dull swain Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon And yet more med'cinal is it than that moly That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave; He caird it hasmony, and gave it me. And bad me keep it as of sovereign use 'Gainst all enchantments, mildew, blast, or damp. Or ghastly furies* apparition. I pursed it up, but little reckoning made. Till now that this extremity compelled : But now I find it true; for by this means I knew the foul en- chanter though disguised. Entered the very lime-twigs of his spells. And yet came off: if you have this about you, (As I will give you when we go) you may Boldly assault the necromancer's hall; Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood, And brandish'd blade rush on him, break his glass. And shed the luscious liquor on the ground. But seize his wand; though he and his cursed crew Fierce sign of battle make,& menace high, 30 Or like the sons of Vulcan vomit smoke, Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink. FIRST BROTHER. THYRSIS,lead on apace, Fll follow thee, And some good Angel bear a shield before us. |_ acx\ ^ct vviu vJiih Jill laaiinci' ^.i dcIi- ClOUSn^iS; ^uUiiiu.viC,ubiCsbpl\-.i.J Willi ali daiiUics. Cuuiii.. pvur^ with hu rai>hlc, an J the Lady bcc in jlu CA\